


Anniversary

by kaxen



Series: The Hallboys [4]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaxen/pseuds/kaxen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year in the new flat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

“I can’t believe it’s been a year. I haven’t finished painting the couch,” Nick said, glancing over to the blue-green-black-brown wood framing the faded flowerprint cushions.

“I still think it would look better in black,” Peter said.

“I like the green,” Nick said.

“Best get to enjoying the red,” Peter said as he poured wine for Nick and then himself. 

“To another year! And as many as we can manage after that! Maybe next year we’re have a lovely manor,” Nick remarked as he held up a glass.

If only they could get a more comfortable life. They were often too tired to get much of anything done. But it was comfortable enough. But they were together. That was what was important. 

”Are you thinking of Downton?” 

“Well, I don’t think I’d have to have Downton, just somewhere big and gigantic in the middle of nowhere. Where no one can complain we’re too noisy.”  
Nick took a small sip of wine. 

“You finally learned not to drink yourself stupid,” Peter said. Nick nudged Peter.

“I learned a lot more than that!” Nick said.  
Nick wiggled a little as he settled himself against Peter’s shoulder.

“I learned to say I love you without getting all weird about it,” Nick said.

“That you did,” Peter nodded.

“I’m still not soppy, though,” Nick teased.

“You’re soppy enough,” Peter said as put down his glass.

Nick squealed as Peter tickled him along the sides of his chest, nearly dropping his glass. He shakily put down his glass, getting into another fit of giggles–the sort of giggles he always insisted he didn’t have.

He wiggled around and kissed Peter’s neck. Nick’s fingers worked their way below his lover’s shirt. Peter laughed. They squirmed and giggled, knowing all too well each other’s most ticklish spots.

“Oh!” Nick gasped as he heard something fall to the ground.

He glanced over to see the picture frame that had fallen off the end table. Nick picked it up.

The photograph inside had been ripped in half and mangled and battered and rained upon and rubbed and then attempted to be taped back together, but it was precious just the same. How they had shouted when they found each other during the war and put it back together. It had to mean something that they found each other by chance after all those years.

Nick ran his fingers against the faded outline of his face in the photograph.

“This picture makes me a feel a bit old,” Nick remarked.

“You can barely see what you look like in this picture,” Peter said.

Peter wrapped his arms around Nick.

“Besides, your hair is much nicer now that you don’t put so much pomade into it.” Peter ruffled Nick’s hair.

“But I’ve got three gray hairs!” Nick complained.

“Eight,” Peter teased.

“Hmph,” Nick scowled.

“You’re still handsome to me,” Peter said as he kissed Nick on the cheek.

“But I’m not getting any younger,” Nick said.

“You’re not planning to do something silly to look younger are you?” Peter said, “You’re not allowed to copy the styles of those youngsters down the street.”

“No. No. Not that,” Nick rolled his eyes.

“Good,” Peter said.

“I want us to go spend good time together. You and me can go on a vacation. To see the water,” Nick said, “And a nice pretty place.”

“How are we going to afford that?” Peter asked, “You can’t build a trip on stolen picnic blankets.”

“Don’t worry about the money. I got enough. I’ve saved some,” Nick said, “And-and I-I got rid of my, um, trophies.”

“You said you nearly died getting that luger!” Peter murmured in wonder as he noticed the shelf where Nick put his war souvenirs was completely empty. He avoided looking at it in the first place. The less he had to think about the war, the better.

“Yeah… But the war was… those aren’t good memories. I’m not ever going to want to go back to some bloody foxhole in France,” Nick said, “I never want to do that again.”

Peter nodded quietly. How the war lingered in his mind. He tried not to think about it, but sometimes it just creeped its way in. That deep dread and fear. Sometimes even Nick’s best efforts didn’t pull him back to the present. And then Nick would grow scared and become cross and everything became worse. 

“We’re going to make good memories. We’re going to collect sea shells and get ice cream,” Nick said as he kissed Peter.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Peter said.


End file.
